Some points of our lives can seem so inconsequential until we look back and realise what it stood for down the line. Maybe we regretted something, only to see that it was important it played out that way for us to end up where we needed to be. Our intuition is so important and can keep us going even during some of the hardest times of our lives.
I found my time living in London as a student a very scary time in lots of different ways. It is scary living in the city away from people you know, scary to be in your early twenties and keeping yourself alive, and scary to face the adult world in a very new and eye-opening way.
Part of my reason for doing this blog, I think I've realised, is to heal. To release the old stories and reflect on why things in my life happened the way they did. At the age of 21, I found myself reeling from heartbreak out of the only serious relationship I've ever had, and feeling unable to cope with the devastating effects of what I'd been through. I had been struggling with an increasing sense of despair as my family were coming to terms with their separation, and I was feeling the onset of grief at the loss of my cousin. All things had come to a head, right at the very end of my University course and my hope for the future had dwindled.
I remember feeling like I was desperately grasping for help wherever I could. Music kept me alive, and helped me express what I couldn't do verbally. Learning the background of music, and how the artists created their sound was still important to me. Hot Since 82's connection to his production and his openness about losing his friend felt like I wasn't alone in the pain I had experienced.
Remains of The Day was a deeply special track to come across, and it has always felt like an encouraging push. I've always felt it sounded ethereal and found a sense of comfort in the way the track is put together. People have made out that electronic music is somehow juvenile for its lack of vocals, and yet classical music can also be instrumental and deeply impactful and moving on the listener.
My Uni room was on the top floor of a houseshare in Acton, and I loved ending my day soaking in the city life from the skylight on the roof. From here, I could see everything: the cars racing past to get home, the petrol station across the road, Gunnersbury park to the left, and the sun setting behind it. The sky would be painted pink, and one by one the night sky would reveal the stars as the evening set. Despite any suffering I felt, that view still felt pretty magnificent.
I knew that working in music was extremely important to me, and something I felt I was begging for an opportunity to be a part of every single day. I couldn't picture how to get there, or how my dreams might even come together. At my lowest points, I felt like it was pointless to even consider trying. I loved watching out that window and seeing all the different lives of people, and how they'd all arrived at the same place at the same time. Spirituality saved me during a time where I don't think I would've coped otherwise without it, and I feel forever changed by the things I learned because of this. The mixture of feeling incredibly low, alongside the admiration I felt for the planet I lived on is a feeling I don't think I'll ever forget easily. Despite all things, I still felt a deep, residing love to trust that something would come around for me.
There's a particular moment that plays over and over in my head, years later from the day it happened... and yet at the time it just felt like a normal day. It was reaching dusk outside, and I was watching the world out of the skylight... and something called to me to go out and experience the outside world before it got dark. All I could feel whilst I was stood there was fear, and I knew something had to shift for things in my life to improve. In despondence, the only option is to pick one thing and give yourself the opportunity to do it. Make one decision, no matter how uncomfortable, and do it. I got my headphones and my running gear on as the sun started to set. Depression can consume you alive, and over the years I have learned immense amounts on what it means to feel it. I knew it was time to do something brave. I knew I could spend my time hiding in grief, or I could make one decision and begin on the long path to something brighter for myself. I could choose to spend another evening alone hiding in bed, or I could chose to go outside and decide that I wanted something more.
This was a turning point for me.
I remember running out onto the street, just as all the street lamps began to switch on and the cars lit up the road with their headlights. The sky seemed to be painted purple and the glimmer of the petrol station illuminated the path neon green ahead of me. From where I lived, you could run on the pavement parallel to the dual carriageway towards Chiswick.
I didn't have much of a plan, nor did I really think about what I was doing or where I was going. All I could feel inside my body was deep, emotional turmoil and I knew there was little left to do but find a way to let it all go. In spirituality, they say that letting go is one of the most important things to do to achieve the life you want to live. At the very beginning though, this feels so terrifying and limiting, like you'll lose the very last piece of safety that you have.
I remember I started running and I could feel the distress circulate throughout my system. I had relied on prayer to keep me going for years to manage the depression I felt, and at that moment I knew I felt I couldn't continue. I wanted to give in and tell God I couldn't survive any longer. The pain was unbearable, and I couldn't see what to do to get out. It was too much.
I remember looking up at the night sky and seeing the stars shine back at me. I didn't know who to tell that I felt this way. There wasn't anyone at the time. I felt distraught.
I listened to "Remains of the Day" all the time, on repeat almost everywhere I went whilst I was at University. Music has always been my outlet and guide for everything. In this particular moment, that song helped me in so many ways that I think it actually helped keep me alive. As I was listening, I felt this warmth encompass my entire being, and an overwhelming, pervasive sense of faith and trust that everything would be alright. This voice in my head told me to forgive myself, to have faith and that everything I'd ever wanted was on the way.
"It's all coming", something in my brain said, "We just want you to focus on right now". I remember the sensation of having that intuitive thought was so alarming and so alien to me that I just started running. Everything had felt so uncertain, so uncontrollable, but listening to that song and allowing myself to be helped was the kind of divine intervention I needed.
I ran as fast as my legs could take me, letting go of everything as tears streamed down my face. I released all the people I couldn't change, all the situations I couldn't fix, all the things I'd lost that I wished I hadn't, and all the dreams and hopes that I couldn't see would be possible for me. I surrendered it all and decided I had no control over anything, and that was going to be ok. I was no longer who I had been before, and that was fine. When I reached the bridge into Chiswick, and the tears had left my system, I looked up and knew it was time to go home. I still didn't know how it would all work out for me, but I no longer felt alone. Something had shifted within me and suddenly I felt it would just be ok.
There have been many moments in my life where I have received an intuitive thought. Something so blindingly strong permeates itself in my brain and the message is unavoidable. I have always looked back and realised how powerful and true the message was. Following that moment, I didn't fear I was on my own. I experienced something so profound, I don't think I've ever been the same since.
Shortly after, life changed completely. The impact of the pandemic meant that I had to leave London and move back home where I finished my dissertation for University. After this, I got a place on an apprenticeship course with a music business that worked with nearly all the labels I had dreamed of. Even the ones I had written down in my University application scrapbook years prior. I even got to work for a record label that a family friend had given me a USB stick for when I was a teenager, when he wanted to encourage me to not give up. Something about that whole situation had felt divinely ordained.
In the years that followed, I found myself working full time in the department I loved. The life I had so desperately wanted became my reality in an even better way than I could have ever prepared for. I got to work with artists and labels that I adored, and travel the world in ways I could have only ever dreamed of before now. The venue I had previously scanned tickets on the door for as a student, somehow became my clients.
My family life healed and we all went to live in separate places and to find our own peace. My mental health journey has improved significantly and I now feel at a point where I know my experiences might be able to help others.
If I could go back to the girl on the bridge and tell her what the future held for her, I think she'd have been blown away. She'd have been so glad she stuck around. Everything I had ever dreamed of happened in such a beautiful way, despite how broken and lost I had felt all those years ago.
I hope that my experience is proof that there can always be a new chapter in your life just around the corner. You deserve to be loved and you deserve to be here.
I am so happy I stuck around to see what remained.
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